A Piano, Some Gin, And A Pack Of Sweaters

December 15th 2012

Oops, I did it again.

SantaCon.

What’s SantaCon?

This:

“The annual mass gathering of people dressed in Santa  costumes parading publicly on streets and in bars in cities around the world. “(And in this case New York City)

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So basically:

Do you see me? I'm the 8th Santa from the left near the center standing next to the guy in the red.

Do you see me? I’m the 8th Santa from the left near the center standing next to the guy in the red.

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The debauchery of this event is intended to be an all day affair.

And well, I’m simply not the disobedient type.

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Here’s how it started.

Nicole Detamble and I made plans to meet at the local drug store to pick up snacks as a basic survival ingredient for the day. Our grocery list was as follows:

Chips

Strawberries

1/5 of vodka

That’s it.

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This college style diet was consumed 16 feet before we even reached the front door of pre-game city.

I’m embarrassed.

But mostly proud.

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We arrived the at the pre-gaming premises and began to socialize feverishly with our Santacon compadres. I made a drink or 5 and before I knew it everyone was topped with Santa hats whilst harmonizing to Disney Tunes:

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Quite the jovial surprise when we found out the male compadre in this photo knew…on-hand…every.single.word. to colors of the wind by Pocohontas…he’s single, ladies.

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Amigos were being wrapped:

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Not sure why I’m taking such a spanish stance during this post

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And in one inexplicable moment Nicole fled to the opposite side of the studio apartment to swoon a pack of tissues, a glove and an ear plug via random piano that was oh so shockingly hidden in the midst of nowhere.

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And it really wasn’t until her inebriated serenade to the tissues, glove and ear plug hit about 13 minutes and 16 seconds that we made a collective decision that this was probably our cue to bounce. Not realizing that she would take her piano playing ways…to-go. Stay tuned.

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Ready, Set, SantaCon.

We fled the premises and immediately boarded a subway train filled to the brim with characters like this:

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Fully aware that we didn’t look so different ourselves and in fact were multiplying factors in this festive game of celebratory madness.

>>>> “The Next Stop Is: 42nd Street Times Square” >>>>

The train stopped.

The doors                                    opened

And we walked up the subway stairs ready to embark on classic day of bizarre shenanigans with a bit of a festive twist. Knowing full well that this pre-game to Christmas would  be chock-full of  strange encounters…but…not this strange.

(stranger encounters to be bolded for the rest of the post)

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“SNITCH SNITCH!”

And echoing came from our right immediately upon our exit from a subway station. It derived from a sea of Santas but rather quickly one Santa stood above the rest. Pummeling through a herd of tourists and drunken elves with a dead set look in his eye whilst continuing to scream this curious word. Upon his arrival he put his head down, breathed heavily and screamed.

“I GOT IT! NO WORRIES GUYS I GOT IT!

Wait what.

 When inquired about his recent retrievals  he simply stated  “I caught the Harry Potter Snitch! 1,000 POINTS FOR RAVENCLAW!!!” and proceeded to whip out an unwarranted gold ball prompting most people in the vicinity to peace the fuck out due to sheer discomfort. However, Nicole stayed behind with vodka to discuss the rules and regulations of quidditch only to be torn away by yours truly.

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Slytherin Nicole is unamused.

I explained to her that Ravenclaw Santa was entirely too distraught and convinced her to join me at the local establishment that was equally as infested with holiday beer, I mean cheer:

It's beginning to look a lot like christmas.

Santa in the top left hand window was humping the glass directly before this photo was snapped. Happy holidays, indeed.

I turned around to tell Nicole to prepare her I.D. only to realize that she was lost…And found doing this:

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Listen to me I have great piano talents that need to be mimed immediately.

She spotted Football Santa from across the way and somehow swindled the conversation back to her earlier serenade of the tissues and the earplugs explaining to Football Santa that an air jam session was in fact a priority. And that they should play a duet. But to choose something other than the air piano because, well, that shit was taken. He looked at her…confused (understandbly so) …. s l o w l y reached down…and began to play this:

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Gift wrap trumpet?  A classic choice.

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Getting to the chorus.

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A standing ovation. That or the snitch flew into the mouth of an innocent bystander. Cue in Ravenclaw Santa.

After witnessing the production of one this 2-man band’s greatest hits,  we finally kick lined our way to our next location

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5-6-7-8!

When suddenly a fellow compadre said she needed something…something red….something…warm…

I suggested a lightly toasted crab. She ignored me completely.

And hence forth we kick lined our way to the neighborhood H&M store to buy

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5 purchases of the exact same sweater causing a ruckus in and out of the establishment.

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Questionable priorities.

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A photo to celebrate!

After dressing ourselves in polyester blend sweater dressed in a toasted crab hue, I realized that thus far in this adventure we were responsible for Disney tune harmonization, air piano – gift wrap trumpet cd production, and coordinating uniforms to join the rest of NYC in a slew of wild holiday shenanigans.

We were in the midst of waiting on the corner of 31st and Park ave. when I heard a mysterious tap tap tap. coming from my left. I looked to my left              and saw nothing.  Tap. Tap. Hysterical laughter. I terrifyingly looked once more to my left and saw this:

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Cue in Fucked Up Santa.

He was confused. He was texting. He was publicly drinking. Known in spanish as Botelloning (boat-tay-yoning) – unecessary fun fact, but sticking to the spanish theme.) Ready to deliver presents and fear to many children near and far. Meet fucked up Santa. Typically found tapping, hiding, and laughing hysterically in neighborhood phone booths sporting toasted crab pants and a signature white tee. Ready to fill your flask. And then take it. And then be fucked up.

Fucked up Santa: Stumbling to a holiday near you!

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After my unwarranted introduction and unruly attempts to converse with fucked up Santa I heard Nicole call my name and say
“Olive! It’s the gingerbread man. Hailing for a cab! Check this shit out! “

(remind me to put this on the top 8 things I never thought I’d hear)

And there he twas.

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A dilemma I didn’t anticipate to witness

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Each cab zoomed passed the cookied compadre unphased by his lost ways and unwilling to partake in his hitch hiking necessities.

Compadre 4 was highly concerned for the gingerbreads well-being and fled to the streets offering her exceptional embracement abilities. And then completely leaving him in the dust because well, we got a cab. Sucker.

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I thought I had seen it all. Ravenclaw Santa, Football Santa, Fucked up santa, Stranded gingerbread man. But it really wasn’t until I saw the Mattress hopping Santa’s airborne with glee:

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Who needs a sleigh when you can mattress hop from house to house!

And passed the local the abombinal snowman

Welcome...to the...neighbor...hood...

Welcome…to the…neighbor…hood…

That I further solidified that this evening was just but another shenanigan to store in the archives and unprepared for the slew of encounters present at the following location.

We pulled up to the bar Solas on the lower east side and ready to continue our festivities until the strange hours of the night when –

Pst.

“?”

Pssssssst.

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There was a noise. Coming from somewhere. From some…one. The bouncer? No…

PSSSSTTTT

The man across the way?

No…

The Penguin behind us?

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For sure.

Headless penguin requested that we not snap a photo of his face, but informed us that he had stolen an entire bottle of gin from is former establishment and would I, per chance like to take a swig or even better…have the bottle? I was en route to questioning the no-lid characteristic of the bottle and explaining that I was a bit hesitant taking a hit of gin to the face from a penguin, but the more I thought about it, accepting gin from a penguin was rather hilarious so  maybe I – Cue in Classy Santa

“Pardon  me. If you won’t take the gin from  my penguin friend would you…prefer my box instead?”

Your…box?

Cue in the body thrust.

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An unexpected option 2.

Santa Clause: Once delivering simple goodies on Christmas morning in exchange for treats. Now encasing his penis in giftwrap  and pinning it with a homemade post it note.

My inner child was a bit conflicted. I asked the nearby Grinch for his advice and he said this:

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Thanks

I shockingly declined and and joined my friends for an evening full of holiday beers only to later have a casual run in with a grey hoodied man topped with a flame decorated bandana just…placing cats on people’s heads.

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An unlikely activity.

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Well that’s one way to spread christmas cheer! Or Aids.

After each compadre in our fleet of friends suffered 1 black cat to the head, we finally sat down at our final destination and cheersed to a very merry christmas and bid farewell to one crazy year  and hello for an even weirder one to come. (Don’t worry I’ll keep you posted – I’ve kept my promise so far)

Happy Holidaze everyone.

Love,

Ravenclaw Santa

Football Santa

Fucked up Santa

Stranded Gingerbread man (who is probably still stranded)

Mattress hopping Santa

Abombinal Snowman

Headless Penguin

Classy Santa

Wildly Unhelpful Grinch

Flame Headed Cat Placer

Nicole Detamble

The Compadres

And of course

Olive.

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2 responses

  1. Pingback: The People | olivethepeople

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